


A Tale of Two Men

by Jen Bradlee (BlackShip)



Category: game of thrones
Genre: F/M, Love Triangle, Multi, Romance, Seven Years Later, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackShip/pseuds/Jen%20Bradlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ayra has become an assassin alongside Jaqen H'ghar. When she finds Gendry in a village they're passing through, her crush from long ago blossoms into something more. But Jaqen also has a confession. Can she choose between the two men who had once risked their lives for her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Two Men

**Author's Note:**

> Arya is now 18...just putting that out there up front. :) This was just a random idea I had for a one shot. Hope you enjoy it. Feel free to leave comments.

  _Seven Years after Harrenhal_

They had been traveling for days. He had wanted to stop, but she had pushed him knowing they would reach their destination soon.

He kept an eye on her for the last few years, teaching her the tricks of the trade, secrets that only he could impart. Still, he kept part of himself hidden away, shuttered from her persistent questions. Sometimes, she caught the longing in his gaze when he looked at her. As quickly as it appeared, it evaporated, hidden by something dark and dangerous.

At first, it concerned her, but now it made her blood heat making the indescribably longing bubble and churn inside of her. For years, she didn't know what it meant to harbor desire. Not since Gendry, with his innocent protection of her so long ago. But he left, without a word, and she had been crushed.

Arya glanced at her partner. He had changed his face again. By this time she was used to it, but beneath it was still the man who rescued her, albeit unwillingly, from Harrenhal. The same year Gendry broke her heart. Two men, two different paths…her heart sometimes ached with the question of what if. Being in Westeros brought nothing but painful memories and desires best left buried with the dead.

They climbed a ridge and below lay a small village. Arya could smell the wood smoke and savory aroma coming from the inn.

"Come on, I'm starving," she said walking ahead of Jaqen. He nodded following close behind. The promise of a good meal pushed her to quicken her pace.

When they reached the inn, Arya opened the door, nearly sighing at the smell of freshly baked bread and a simmering stew. She sat down; Jaqen joined her. "It's been days since we've had a decent meal and a roof over our heads," she murmured as the barmaid approached. "Stew, ale and bread, for both of us," she said before the woman could ask. "Oh, and do you have two rooms available?"

The maid smiled. "There is only one room left, you are welcome to it," she said glancing between Arya and Jaqen.

"That will be fine." Arya didn't mind sharing a room with Jaqen. They'd been in much more uncomfortable positions before. Tonight he would sleep in the same bed, but as long as she got to sleep in a bed, she didn't care. "Thank you," she said to the maid who quickly disappeared to fetch their meal.

"A man does not think sharing a room would be wise," he said, pushing his long hair back from his face, blue eyes meeting hers.

"Are you afraid of taking advantage of me?" she teased him. "Honestly, Jaqen, what has gotten into you?"

He shrugged and glanced around the room.

"Oh, I forgot," she stood. "I must find the blacksmith." She needed a new dagger, and quickly. Perhaps the local blacksmith had one for sale. "I shall return in a moment." Arya left him there at the table just as the maid returned with their drinks. She looked over her shoulder. He was watching her over the rim of his cup. With a wave, she stepped into the street. Scanning the village at a cursory glance, she spotted the puffing black smoke that belied the stables and the smithy. Darting in that direction, she stopped when she reached the building and stepped under the thatched roof.

She hadn't expected to be confronted with a shirtless blacksmith wearing a leather apron. He was tempering a sword, seemingly undisturbed by the sparks leaving black spots on his arms. Arya licked her lips. He was tall, broad shoulders tapering into narrow hips. His arms well-muscled from swinging a hammer, his torso lean.  Dark hair scattered across his chest, a mop of it crowned his head. He paused mid swing and turned, looking at her. "Can I help you?"

Arya cleared her throat. "Do you have a dagger I might purchase?"

He shook the hair from his eyes revealing their bright green hue. A memory nagged at her. He was handsome and strong. Had she seen him before? Dipping the sword into a bucket of water, he set his hammer and the sword down. Without another word, he crossed the room and opened a small trunk.

"Anything specific?" he asked, his voice rough as he drew a dagger from the trunk. He handed it to her.

"Slim, easy to conceal, nothing fancy," she replied, handing the dagger back to him. "This one is too big."

His brows drew together, his eyes sharp as he watched her closely. "Something delicate for you, my lady." He handed her another blade, this one slimmer, a perfect fit for her palm.

"Don't call me that," she snapped out of reflex, her hand tightening on the blade. A realization slowly dawned. "Gendry?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"My lady," he said with a slight bow.

"Stop, I said." She turned from him and heard him close the chest.

"It's been too long, Arry," he murmured. He had stepped closer, the heat from his body seeping into her even though they did not touch. She had dreamed about him, longed for a chance to make things right. Turning to face him, she inhaled sharply at the feelings that overwhelmed her. Want, regret, fear, embarrassment, they raged inside.

"Aye," she said, her gaze flickering from his eyes, to his lips, to his bare chest an arm's length away. She glanced away. "I'm glad to see you've made a name for yourself here."

"I have," he said. She could feel him watching her. "Why are you here?"

"We are just passing through," she said. "I'll take the dagger." Arya stepped around him, pulling the coins from her pocket. His firm hand on her arm spun her around. She landed against his chest, her palms pressing against the leather. Her face heated instantly.

"We?" he asked, his eyes intense. "Are you married?" His voice was dark and dangerous, so unlike the Gendry she knew before. But it had been eight years, he would have changed. She had.

"No," she said without thought. "Jaqen and I have a mission to fulfill."

"Jaqen H'ghar?" Gendry's grip tightened slightly, pinching her skin, then he released her, shaking his head. "My apologies, my lady."  He stepped back and her hands fell to her sides.

"Damn it, you bullheaded bastard." She lunged at him. "Why did you leave me?" Her fists pounded on his chest. "We could have been family." He caught her wrists easily, his thumbs pressing against her pulse points, his eyes boring into hers.

She blinked at him, her vision clouded with unshed tears. "You left me when I needed you the most," she yelled at him, her voice failing. She'd been running for so long, pushing it all into the back of her mind. Seeing him brought the pain, the emotion, rushing back, like a bucket of cold water being tossed on her.  

"Arya," he murmured, the gentle cadence of his voice wrapped around her wounded ego. She swayed in his grip. "I was wrong. To leave you on your own, to push you away."

She glared at him, wanting to hate him. But the hate was shoved aside for something stronger, something she felt before. In all her years, she'd never given into the desire, the pulsing want that coursed through her. Staring at him now, this handsome, filthy blacksmith, a friend who abandoned her, lit a fire somewhere inside of her. "Let me go," she said, making her voice as strong as she could muster.

"I did it once, and I regretted it ever since," he said. Releasing her wrists, he smoothed his calloused fingertips against her cheek, trailing them back to bury his hands in her long dark hair. Before she could react, his lips crashed against hers. Taking her with a force and passion that she nearly stopped breathing. Her arms locked around his neck as he lifted her off the ground with one hand. He sat her on the workbench, pressing himself against her. This was no tender, loving first kiss. It was a passionate plea for release, for something she didn't understand.

Her hands toyed with the hair brushing the nape of his neck. He nipped at her lip, tasting her. An animalistic desire overwhelmed her. Her fingers tightened in his hair, she pulled his head back, breaking the kiss. His eyes had deepened to a forest green, a wild, feral gleam in their depths. She smirked. His grip on her hips tightened.

"Tell me, Gendry," she murmured, her words caressing his lips. His eyes drifted closed. "Would you make me your lady?" She said the words, knowing what they would unleash, wanting it all the more because of that. Her grip never faltered, his eyes remained locked with hers unblinking.

"Aye," he practically growled.

"Is there somewhere we can meet?"

"There's a river behind the inn, hidden by the trees." His voice was strained, the need coursing through every syllable. "I bathe there after dark."

"Then I shall be there, after dark," she replied, kissing him again. She released him and placed her hand in the center of his chest when he tried to pull her against him. "I promise." Her whispered oath brought a groan from his lips. Without a word, he lifted her from the bench and set her feet on the ground letting her go.

She stooped to pick up the coins she had dropped. Pressing them into his palm, she smiled. "Thank you for the dagger." With a parting wave, she slipped from the shop.

Jaqen would probably wonder where she was. She made her way back to the inn. As the door closed behind her, she spotted Jaqen, sitting in the same spot, finishing his meal. She joined him. "Sorry that took so long," she apologized, taking a bite of her stew. She savored it. Jaqen was silent. "Something wrong?" she asked mid bite.

"Nothing, lovely girl," he replied with a lopsided smirk. "Did you find what you were after?" His eyes shimmering a crystal blue like frost on valyrian steel.

Arya ceased chewing. Was there some kind of double meaning behind that question? She swallowed and offered a smile. "I did," she said, slipping the blade from its sheath. Laying it on the table between them, she watched him pick it up.

"A fine quality," he said, admiring the hilt and the sharpness of the blade. "The smith who made this is quite talented."

Even though Arya knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jaqen had no idea what just happened with Gendry, she felt the burn in her cheeks staining them red. She took a sip of her ale and nodded. "Aye." She dare not say more. How could she explain it to him? The guilt wrapped around her like a winter chill.

Jaqen watched her, his expression passive. This face he wore was nearly as handsome as the one he wore the first time they met. His long dark hair held a tint of red. The eyes were the same though. Soulful and deep like the ocean, sharp and cool like ice. It was that look, his intense gaze that brought her awareness to the surface again. He didn't have to say a word, yet she knew what he wanted. She wondered how his lips would feel pressed to hers, what he would taste like. She shook her head. Truly she was in deep now, torn between two men.

***

Jaqen entered the room they purchased for the night. The room was barely suitable for two people, but since it was only for one night, he overlooked the size.

Arya came in behind him. He never worried about her going off on her own. She was an assassin from the House of Black and White. He knew she could hold her own against anything that came against her. Her skills only improved with her maturity. It had taken a long time to teach her to control the bitterness and rage that boiled beneath the surface. The training taught her to hide the emotion. When she returned from the smithy, her hair was mussed, her lips swollen, and her cheeks were stained with roses.

He sat his satchel on the bed. He had paid an extra coin to have a bath prepared for him. The tub was brought up and waiting, whorls of steam rising from the water.

"Would a girl like to use the bath first?" he asked Arya. "A man will wait downstairs."

"No thank you, Jaqen," she said a bit too quickly. "I shall wait for you. Take your time, I have another errand to take care of." With a smile, she put her bag down and strapped the new dagger to her waist. "Enjoy the bath," she added before closing the door behind her.

Jaqen stripped his clothes off and stepped into the hot water. It burned his skin making it an angry red. He closed his eyes welcoming the hint of pain. It took his mind off of other things, off Arya and the man she was going to meet. He knew. The way she'd looked when she had returned to join him for supper. He'd seen that look before. A torrid embrace was the only logical reason. Her eyes had been glazed, a haunting memory lingering in their depths, a hint of a smile on her lips. A familiar pinch of jealousy shot through him. Who was he, this mysterious man, to cause her to bloom in a few short moments? Curiosity, Jaqen had learned, could kill a man. He pushed the question away. She was not his concern; she could do as she pleased. Although the knowledge stung all the same.

Jaqen sighed as he sank down into the water. His relationship with Arya had always been a complicated one. He was her mentor in the arts of the brotherhood. While he admired her tenacity and her talent, for years he only considered her a student, a protégé, nothing more. But for the last two years, they had traveled together, taking the jobs, offering names to the Red God. In that time he saw her as more than a brother, he saw her as a woman in bloom.

He fought the desires that burned inside of him. He looked away, forced himself to turn a blind eye to the curves beneath her garments, the sound of her voice, even her sweet scent. She took to carrying a vanilla stick in a pouch around her neck. Now the scent reminded him of her. Try as he might, he could not deny the attraction that slowly grew from their bond. Even now, he wanted her as a man desired a woman.

He had never indulged in the fantasy of traditional happiness. There had been one torrid year in Braavos with the red woman, but fate had torn them apart. He tried not to think of his life before the brotherhood. His sworn oath to them was all that mattered. He knew that his bond with Arya was dangerous for both of them. She would never entertain the thought of them as anything but friends and partners. He dipped his head beneath the water, rinsing his hair. Breaking the surface, he wiped the water from his face and reached for the soap. He washed the road from his skin, from his hair. Jaqen loved the sensation of being clean. It was one of his little indulgences.

He rinsed off, then lay in the tub, his head the only thing not submerged. He closed his eyes, a vision of Arya hovered there, just beyond his fingertips. Her kiss swollen lips begging him. Jaqen knew he was well and truly fucked. There was no way he could keep up this farce much longer.

***

This spot in the river was quiet, Gendry often came here after a long day in the smithy to relax and cool off.  He definitely needed the refreshing waters today. He had given up the dream long ago. Gendry peeled off his breeches and boots laying them by the riverbank on a rock. He stepped into the water. It was bearable tonight. He waded into the deeper part of the river washing the iron and steel dust from his body. He relaxed and allowed the water to buoy his weight.

His body was still coiled with sexual tension from the kiss he shared with Arya. Never had he expected to see her again, and here of all places. He'd regretted leaving her. She was a child who had needed a friend, a family, someone to be her support. At the time, he thought he had been doing her a favor by leaving with the Brotherhood without Banners. But he was a bastard, and she was a lady. She deserved better than him.

He hadn't been blind or stupid. He saw the looks she gave him, while he worked in the forge, her gaze roaming across his bare chest, lingering on his lips when he spoke. Back then, he never thought about it. She was a child, what could she know of desire. But tonight, he'd seen the same look in her eyes, only intensified, honed like the edge on a valyrian steel blade. When he had realized who she was, the memories came flooding back along with the wave of regret.

He glanced at the shoreline. He was still alone. The feeling of eyes on him lingered. He'd been stupid to tell her that he would be here. She wanted him that much he knew. Now she was a woman, and if his embrace earlier had any indication, she had filled out. He groaned. He was no saint, he'd had other women. But the thought of being with Arya made him harder than he'd been since he was a lad. He dove beneath the surface of the water, then came up again. He shook his head, smoothing his hair back from his eyes. What the fuck had he gotten himself into now?

***

Arya ducked behind the tall oak tree near the river's edge. Was she really going to do this? Her heart pulled her in two different directions. She wanted to tell Jaqen the truth, but it was better this way. He has no say in what she does or who she dallies with. It was the longing in Jaqen's eyes that made her hesitate. He preached about hiding one's emotions, and yet, she caught the desire in his gaze mixed with disappointment.

She laid her head back against the rough bark. There was no way she was going to let this moment pass. For years she wondered what his kiss tasted like, now that she knew, she craved it like a starving man craved sustenance. She unlaced her bodice and slid it off, along with her shirt, breeches, and boots. It felt strange standing nude in the forest next to the river. Gendry had dove beneath the surface again. Seizing the moment, she walked farther into the river, until the water came over her shoulders.

His head popped above the surface, his hair hanging in his face.

"Do you come here often?" she asked softly. He pushed the hair from his face and met her gaze.

"Every night," he confessed. Swimming closer, he watched her. She shuddered when his fingertips brushed across her stomach. His hand smoothed around her hip, drawing her against him in the water. He was hot, even in the cool water, his warmth enveloped her. Skin to skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breasts pressed against him, her nipples brushing against his chest hair, causing a wonderful friction. His hands held her steady, his thumbs stroking the crease along her hip bones.

"Gendry, I…" she whispered meeting his gaze. He silenced her with a soft kiss. Their lips brushing together like leaves on the wind. The hunger that had been building inside of her surfaced again. Her hands disappeared into his wet hair pulling him closer. His tongue swept against her lips and pleaded for entrance. She opened for him, giving him more than she had before, baring her body and her soul to him. Her hands wandered everywhere, wanting more, knowing there was more. "Please," she whispered. "Gendry. Take me."

They floated together in the water, their bodies fused. Arya whimpered when his fingers slid between her thighs, caressing her most intimate place. Every stroke brought her higher, and when he slid his finger into her, she cried out against his mouth, her nails biting into the skin of his back. He tortured her until she thought she would burst from the fire building inside of her.

"Arya," he whispered as he nipped kisses along her jaw. He stopped touching her. She stared at him, her body screaming for something she didn't understand.

"Don't stop," she said as she shook him. He chuckled and grabbed her hand.

"Touch me," he said guiding her hand to his manhood. She closed her hand around him, the soft flesh covering his hardened steel. He groaned when she squeezed him. "Is this what you wanted?"

"I want it inside of me," Arya said meeting his gaze. "I want you inside of me." She kissed him again as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He carried her out of the water and laid her down on the blanket he'd left next to the riverbank. Gendry brushed the tip of himself against her opening.

"Are you sure?" he asked. His eyes sharp in the moonlight.

Arching her hips, Arya slid him in. He thrust into her. She stilled unprepared for the sensation of being filled so completely. He kissed her softly, his fingertips making small circles on her lower back, waiting for her to urge him forward.

Slowly she began to move against him. As their tongues danced, he built a rhythm as he moved within her. Arya marveled at the pleasure and the pain as it slowly subsided. She cupped his face with her hands tenderly returning every kiss. She felt the same pressure mounting again, the sweet ascension to an unknown release.

Gendry slid into her over and over. Slowly increasing his speed with each thrust. Arya's breath caught as she was caught up in her climax. She whimpered against his mouth, her body clenching around him as he continued to drive into her. She felt her whole being tense, then pulse as the ebb and wave of pleasure washed over her.

He grunted as he pulled out of her just as he came. Gendry leaned his forehead against hers. "Arya," he whispered her name like a prayer. "Stay with me tonight."  He hugged her tight. She felt boneless and lovely. She stroked a stray hair from his eyes.

"I cannot, Gendry," she replied pressing a kiss to his lips. "I wish I could, but Jaqen will worry about me."

Gendry exhaled sharply. "So you've had your fun with me. Now you'll go back to him."

"It's not like that," she said. "He is my teacher."

"As was I," he murmured, nipping at her neck and rubbing himself against her leg.

"I'm sorry," she said, pushing away from him. She stood reaching for her clothes, and she had nearly grabbed them when he snatched her by the wrist and pulled her back against him. They fit together so well, all sharp angles and soft curves, molding together in all the right places. She wanted to stay more than anything, but she owed Jaqen the courtesy of the truth before she disappeared for the night.

"I was wrong to let you go once," he said after he kissed her again. "I won't make the same mistake twice. Stay with me."

Arya blinked at him. Surely he was teasing her. After all those years of missing him, of wanting him to be her family, now he offered. She shook her head. It was surreal, falling in love with him all over again.

"You want me to stay for how long? Until you tire of me?" She laughed.

His expression was serious. "Marry me, Arya."

"You're serious," she said with her jaw askew. "Let me think on it, Gendry. I owe Jaqen that much."

"I understand," he said pressing a kiss to her brow. He released her and gathered his clothing. She dressed as well, and he walked her back to the inn.

"Don't forget me," he said as they kissed good night.

Arya disappeared into the inn and climbed the stairs, her heart thundering in her chest. Her hand paused on the door before she pushed it open. Jaqen was asleep beneath the covers. Arya quickly changed into her nightshirt and slid under the blankets, thankful that Jaqen was asleep. She needed time to think before she talked to him about Gendry. Her eyes closed and dreams of a handsome green eyed blacksmith haunted her.

***

Jaqen heard her slip into the room. He lay there, still as a stone, waiting for her to climb into the bed. He should have followed her, seen where she'd gone. But he had finished his bath, then whet the blade of his sword. He had been in bed only moments before she entered the room. Calming his breathing, he closed his eyes, his whole body attuned to her as she undressed and then climbed into the bed beside him.

He lay there, still and silent, until he heard the rhythm of her breathing deepen. When he was sure she was asleep, he rolled onto his side facing her. In sleep, she looked so innocent, her long, dark hair framing a porcelain face. A lady in looks, an assassin in truth. No one gazing upon her face would ever see the pain she carried inside, the longing for vengeance. He had seen it all those years ago when she was just a child. The hatred festered and grew leading her to the House of Black and White. She struggled with releasing her old life, her name, who she was born to be. He sighed.

Jaqen watched over her, knowing that one day she would have to make a choice. He had hoped that this journey would help her make the decision that loomed before her. He pressed a soft kiss to her hair, the scent of the river still clinging to it. He gazed on her once more studying her in rest. Her lips were plump and red, swollen from the unknown man's kiss. He noticed the light red bruises marring her jaw. Bites from her lover. He sighed as the jealousy washed through him again. She was not his; he could not stop her.

Laying on his back, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. He focused on her breaths until they lulled him into slumber.

***

Arya woke with a gasp, her hand grasping at her throat. Her breathing slowed as she realized it was only a dream. The river had been too deep. He let go, and she was swept away in the current. The rapids pulled her under, the water filled her lungs as she screamed for help. He watched as she drowned. She shook her head. The man in her dream was faceless, his identity concealed by the hood he wore. Glancing to her right, she saw Jaqen was still asleep. She sighed in relief. At least she hadn't woken him with her nightmare.

Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer. Arya never saw him asleep. He always rose before her. She studied his features, the soft wave of his long red hair as it fell on his pillow. He was handsome like this with this now familiar face. She sometimes missed the way he looked back when she met him. She focused on his lips parted softly in sleep, his lower lip full and kissable.

Arya shook her head. What was she thinking? Jaqen was her mentor, her friend. She'd admitted that the attraction had blossomed, but she always pushed it away banishing it to the farthest reaches of her mind. But after Gendry's kiss, after what they'd done by the river, her curiosity was piqued. Would Jaqen's kiss taste the same, would his body feel the same as he slid inside of her? She gasped at the direction of her thoughts. How could she think such things? A wanton woman trapped inside of her clawed at her insides, begging, pleading for freedom.

Arya's fingers twitched wanting to touch him. A flurry of butterflies took flight inside of her. What if he pushed her away and scolded her for her actions? She frowned for a moment, licking her lips.

"A man would know why you stare, lovely girl." He murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

Startled, Arya turned from him rolling onto her side facing the door. "I...uh…nothing," she stammered. "Go back to sleep." She closed her eyes, too embarrassed to face him. What had she been thinking? She groaned.

The bed shifted, she felt the heat from his body as he leaned over her. "Are you well?" he whispered in her ear. A delicious shiver shot through her.

"I am fine," she snapped. "Go to sleep."

"Not until a man is sure you are well," he said. "Turn and tell the truth."

With a sigh, she rolled back a little, he was looking down at her, his blue eyes focused on her with an intensity she'd never seen before. She drew her lip between her teeth. He was handsome in the firelight, his hair hanging down. Her fingers twitched, she closed them into a fist to keep from reaching up and twisting her fingers in his hair. She released her lip and offered a hesitant smile.

"I'm fine," she whispered, afraid to trust her own voice. "Jaqen." The panic fluttered in her chest, but desire overpowered it pinning it down.

He smiled in that lopsided way she'd grown to love. "What, lovely girl?"

"Kiss me." She said the words, surprised that they left her lips at all. For a moment he just stared at her, she feared she had only said them in her head. Her hand reached up and pressed against his chest tangling in his shirt, and she drew him down slanting her lips over his.

Jaqen groaned and shifted his weight to rest on top of her. His hand cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss, consuming her. She had been right, his kiss was different than Gendry's. It was darker, more carnal, and dangerous. She could lose herself in it.

Arya let her hand drift down beneath the blanket, and she gripped him over the thin layer of his small clothes.

His head snapped back. "What are you doing?" he asked searching her face.

"I want to taste you," she said, enjoying the pained look on his face. "May I?" She pushed him off of her. He laid back on the bed, stunned. She peeled the blankets down, along with his small clothes. She knelt between his legs, her eyes locked with his as she took him into her mouth.

"Arya, please," he groaned as his eyes drifted shut. "A girl shouldn't…" His voice drifted off as she swirled her tongue across the head. "Stop." He said, closing his hand on her arm and pulling her up. She straddled him, and her nightshirt rode up her thighs. He sat up, sliding her down onto his thighs and wrapping his arms around her. His blue stare took her breath away.

"Do you not want me?" she asked, breathless, her heart pounding in her chest.

He tilted his head. "A man thinks you are playing with fire." She reached up, draping her arms over his shoulders. "Did your lover not satisfy you, lovely girl?"

"Let me go," she bit off, pushing her hands against his chest. His grip on her tightened.

"No. A man will play your game. But you will play his way."

"I was wrong," she snapped, reaching for the dagger she kept on her thigh. He snatched her wrist and pinned it behind her back.

"Tisk tisk," he admonished, his eyes harboring a wicked gleam. "You would kill a man for telling the truth."

"I wouldn't kill you," she said sweetly as she leaned closer. "Just carve my name into your flesh."

"There's my bloodthirsty girl," he said. "So, did he please you? This lover of yours." She turned away, unable to meet his icy gaze a moment longer. "Did he make you cry out his name when he took you?"

"I hate you," she growled, facing him again.

"A man can smell him on your skin, taste him on your lips." He watched her intently. "Why would you seduce me when you can have him?"

Arya looked away, her face warm. She couldn't admit that she was a wanton, and she wanted to know them both intimately. She couldn't choose...the thought hit her like a splash of cold water. She couldn't choose without knowing what she would be giving up. It wasn't just the sex. It was everything. Arya took a deep breath and faced him.

"I want you both," she confessed, her chin tilted up, determined to keep her pride. "He asked me to stay with him. I..." Her voice faded and she shrugged trying to find the words. "I know you want me. You undress me with your eyes when you think I'm not looking."

His eyes darkened with her confession; it made her bolder.

"I wanted you for months," she whispered. "I said nothing for fear of you pushing me away."

"A man cannot give you what he can," Jaqen said. "A home, a family, children, a stable life. A man has already made his choice of how he would spend his life. Stay with me, and a girl will have passion and vengeance. But that is all."

Arya worried her lower lip between her teeth. She had two choices, but right now, she wanted a taste of the passion he offered.

"Show me," she whispered, leaning closer, "This passion you promise." Her lips brushed against his. Her tongue darted out to taste him.

He released her hand and crushed her against him, indulging her by deepening the kiss. His hands slid under her nightgown grasping her backside and pulling her against him. His manhood brushed against the tender spot between her legs. She gasped and tilted her head back when his fingertips dug into her flesh.

Jaqen grazed his teeth across the tender skin of her neck, nipping lightly. His hands slid the nightgown up over her head, exposing her to his gaze in the firelight. The blue of his eyes darkened, making him look feral. She ran her fingers through his hair. She had dreamed of touching him like this, to be this close to him. Skin on skin. Arya shivered in delight as he caressed her back.

He grasped her by the hips and lifted her up, setting her off his lap.

She pouted. "What are you..."

"Get on your hands and knees," he said, his voice dark and commanding. "Now."

Arya obeyed and glanced over her shoulder at him. Her most intimate areas were exposed to him. He touched her, his finger skimming over her swollen lips. She bit back a moan. She was already soaking wet. He slid a finger inside of her, and she gasped.

"Please," she whimpered.

"Please what?" he asked. "A man would hear you say the words."

"Please fuck me," she said softly.

"Louder," he commanded, his finger stroking inside of her, teasing her.

"Fuck me, Jaqen." She cried out as he slid a second finger into her. "Seven hells!"

He leaned over her, wrapping her long hair around his hand and pulling her head back. Jaqen removed his fingers and guided himself into her. She cried out as he stretched her. She was sore but having his cock inside her shot pleasure though her body. She arched her back, desperate to get closer. He began to move, thrusting with careful motions, his hand firmly tangled in her hair.

Arya closed her eyes. The sensation overwhelming her. While her encounter with Gendry was tender and loving, Jaqen was intoxicating and wild. She bit her lip again, smothering a groan before it escaped her lips. He released her hair and her head fell forward, her hair covering her face, hiding her blush as he gripped her hips and pounded into her. The pressure built inside of her.

"Jaqen," she whimpered, her breath coming in short pants. "I..." She didn't have the words for the need that hovered just beyond her reach.

His hand slid across her thigh and she jumped when it touched the curls above her sex. Jaqen's pace never slowed as he gently stroked the tender spot there. The pressure suddenly exploded into a million pieces, her body shook with the force of her climax. Jaqen continued to stroke her relentlessly, until he groaned and slid out of her spending himself on the sheets.

Arya collapsed to the bed in a heap, her body boneless and her mind spinning. Jaqen climbed over her body, hovering there. His sharp eyes studied her, a lopsided grin on his face.

"A man is not finished, lovely girl." He spread her legs and knelt between them. His tongue touched her trembling core. He found the spot he'd rubbed before, sucking it into his mouth. Arya screamed and bucked her hips.

"You wanted passion," he said, his breath brushing against her pulsing center. She shook her head.

"No more," she pleaded. "Noooo..." but her cries died on a squeal of pleasure as he devoured her. When she peaked again, she trembled as he kissed his way up her body. His lips found hers and tasted herself on his tongue.

He pulled her against him as he lay back. She nestled against him, sated and exhausted.

"Thank you, Jaqen," she whispered against his chest, afraid to meet his eyes. He tipped her chin up forcing her to look at him.

"A girl must still make a choice," he said.

She nodded, burying her face in his chest. They lay there, the firelight flickering on the walls, on the ceiling. Arya drifted to sleep, unable to choose between the two men she loved.

***

Arya glanced down at Jaqen as he slept. Her heart ached knowing that she had to make her decision now. It would haunt her forever and change her destiny yet again. She pressed a kiss to his temple, smoothing his hair away from his face. He shifted under her touch. Her hand hovered over his head, afraid she had woken him. When she was certain he was still fast asleep, she slid from the bed slowly.

Quickly, Arya dressed and gathered her belongings, tucking them into her bag. The small table in the corner held a quill and ink. She sat down and wrote two letters. She folded them and tucked one into her pocket, the other she placed on her pillow beside Jaqen.

With one lingering glance, she memorized him just as he was, as she'd always known him. Then she slipped out into the night, knowing that dawn would soon break, along with her heart.

***

Jaqen reached for Arya. His eyes fluttered open when his hand found nothing but a cold vacant bed. He sat up, searching the room for her. Perhaps she went to fetch them something to break their fast. Then he saw the parchment folded on her pillow. He picked it up and unfolded it, scanning the contents.

_Dearest Jaqen,_

_You have always been a good friend and a wise mentor. Last night was magic. Better than I ever could have imagined. Forgive me for not telling you in person._

_I came to a road diverged in the woods. One path leading to a life with you, the other leading to a life with him. I cannot choose between you, not when I do not know myself. So it is with a heavy heart that I start my journey alone. In a year, I will return to this place again. If you still want me, then meet me here. Then I shall be prepared to give you my answer._

_Until then, know that I love you. As a friend, a teacher, and a man. Forgive me._

_Sincerely,_

_Your wolf, Arya_

Jaqen sat on the bed, letter in hand, staring at the fire as it died in the hearth. The sting of rejection pained him, but he knew she was right. There were some things that she needed to discover on her own before she made her decision. He could not fault her for that.

He dressed and packed his bag methodically. His hand on the door, he glanced at the bed where they'd lain together intertwined in a passionate embrace. Jaqen passed his hand in front of his face, his features contorting and rearranging into a new identity. Then he closed the door behind him and finished his journey alone.

***

Gendry stumbled into his shop, groggy and miserable from tossing and turning the night before. He waited in the hopes that Arya would come to him. Part of him hoped she walk through the door any minute. Picking up his hammer, the soft flutter of parchment falling caught his eye. Bending over, he snatched it up.

He read it, his heart dropping with every word.

_Dearest Gendry,_

_I cannot stay. There are demons that haunt me. I must flush them out before I can make my decision. Before you get angry at Jaqen, just know that I have left his company as well. While you offered me love, he offered me passion. You a family, him a partnership. I cannot choose. Not yet._

_Wait for me. One year is all I ask of you. I will return with my decision. Know that I love you, I've always loved you. I forgave you for leaving me, now I ask that you do the same. I am sorry._

_Love,_

_Your lady, Arya_

Gendry carried the letter to his workbench. Pulling down a small cherry wood box, he opened the lid and slid the parchment into it, then closed it with a snap. He turned as his mind raced and his heart broke. He picked up his hammer and threw it against the wall cracking a solid wood beam. Stoking the fire, he turned his mind to his work as he tried to push away the memory of her kiss and the way she smiled at him. Although his heart ached, he would wait for her.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide who she should choose, so I left the ending open. I'm not sure if I can pick yet. What do you think? What would you do?


End file.
